


Treasures and Trinkets

by singingisfun



Category: D - Fandom, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:36:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8696782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingisfun/pseuds/singingisfun
Summary: Collection of drabbles and one-shots based on spoilers and/or alternate scenes. Captain Swan. Ratings will vary.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Once Upon a Captain Swan storybook. The Neverland Kiss.

The guy is absolutely incorrigible.  He’s standing there with that cocky grin on his face that – dammit – is working, pointing to his lips in a subtle (obvious) suggestion that her thanks should take the form of a kiss.

She knows she’s smiling because, really, she’s got to give him a little credit for persistence, when she replies, “Yeah, that’s what the ‘thank you’ was for.”

He swaggers forward in that flirty way of his, the picture of innocence he paints completely at odds with his next question, “Is that all your father’s life is worth to you?”

He’s ridiculous.  Utterly ridiculous.  His eyes twinkling like a fucking kid on Christmas, asking Santa for a long coveted toy. 

“Please.  You couldn’t handle it.”

_There, gauntlet thrown,_ she thinks. 

(Even though somewhere in the back of her mind it also occurs to her that this is the first time she’s ever actually flirted back with the too-blue-eyed pirate.  Oh, he’s flirted with her.  He’s flirted with her plenty.  But she’s never returned any of it, no matter how tempted she was.  But today, after being able to see Henry’s face and assure him that they’re here and coming for him, she’s feeling a little too good to resist giving him a little of his own back.)

Not to be outdone, he simply leans in. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

He pops that ‘t’ at the end and she would swear that’s what causes the buzz that suddenly runs through her veins.  Then he gives her a smoldering look of challenge and, well, she’s never been one to back away from a challenge.

At least that’s what she tells herself when she reaches forward and grabs the collar of his coat, yanking him forward in a move that she hopes catches him off guard. 

And it does.  She can tell it does by the way he draws air in through his nose. 

She feels one instant of triumph at that but it doesn’t last, because he’s kissing her back and everything gets a little hazy around the edges.  And when his hand runs softly across the back of her head, it doesn’t feel like a challenge anymore, it feels like something completely different…  a little too gentle, a little too close.  And that’s a little too terrifying, especially when he dips his head in an effort to break the kiss.  And she can’t allow that, not when his fingers are still running gently through her hair in that tender way, so she chases his lips and dives in for more, gripping demandingly at the back of his head to get this back to the challenge it was supposed to be. 

Still, by the time she breaks the kiss, they’re both breathing heavy and it occurs to her that they’d both proven the other right – neither of them could handle it – and the way he lets his lips linger in front of hers tells her that he knows it, too.  But he doesn’t seem to care who won or who lost which terrifies her even more because that’s what makes her realize this has stopped being about a challenge for him.

“That was…”

“A one-time thing,” she finishes, releasing his collar with a little tug that pushes his all too tempting mouth further from hers.

She wants him to look annoyed but he doesn’t.  Instead his features read confused and hurt and she realizes she’s got to get out of here – like _now_.

Turning away from the question she knows he wants to ask, she starts walking, her voice showing only the barest bit of the breathlessness she feels, when she says, “Don’t follow me.  Go get some firewood or something.”

“As you wish,” he replies, not bothering to cover his own breathlessness and, since he can’t see her face, she lets a smile light her features.  He’ll never know, anyway, just how sweet she thinks it is that he keeps proving one of the first things he told her about himself. 

He truly is a gentleman.


	2. I Can't Lose You, Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Once Upon a Captain Swan storybook. The "I can't lose you, too," kiss.

He's been anxious all day, his heart beating dully in his chest ever since she dismissed him to the sheriff's station this afternoon. It's always one step forward and two steps back with this woman. And it's happening again. Even after last night, when she'd sunk her head into his chest, when she'd allowed him to warm her icy hand by holding it in his, when he'd finally felt like she was truly opening up and letting him be the man he longs to be for her, here she goes pushing him away again.

She's retreating behind those walls right before his very eyes and there's nothing he can do to stop it, it seems. But he won't give up. He'll sit here and wait for her to alight from that door until daybreak, if necessary. And while he's at it, he'll stew and sip at his rum.

He knows she doesn't trust easily. He knows she's got a lot to deal with. But, dammit, hasn't he proven himself to be a worthy ally? Even if she doesn't return his feelings, hasn't he proven, at the very least, that she can trust him? Doesn't she realize he'll never sit idly by while she rushes into danger?

Laying the flask down on the table, he rubs his hand over his heart as though he can force the weight in it to dissipate by doing so. It doesn't help. Of course, it doesn't help. It's not physical weight. It's an emotional one, and one he knows won't be lifted until he confronts her and finds out exactly where they stand.

So here he sits, apart from all the others inside, patiently (impatiently) waiting for her to come out.

He gives up on trying to massage the ache out of his heart and takes another drink of rum.

And another.

The rum is just starting to warm his system, relaxing his limbs and easing the sinking feeling in his chest (fractionally) when the door finally opens and she barrels through it.

He tries to be nonchalant about asking her to have a drink but she blows past him, barely looking in his direction and his heart smacks into his ribs with frustration.

She's running, almost literally this time, and he's not going to let her get away with it. So he vaults to his feet and follows her, demanding an explanation.

He catches her with his hook on her arm, already out of breath – not from the chase but from how hard his heart is pounding in anxiety.

"I know it feels like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders but at some point, even though we're quite different, you've got to trust me."

She rankles at that, looking at him with what could almost be distain and his heartrate spikes even faster. "You think that's what this is about? That I don't trust you?"

"Is that not what it's about?

"Of course I trust you!" she declares heatedly and it's almost relief to see her lose control because it allows him to let loose some of his own frustration.

"Then why do you keep pulling away from me?!"

"Because everyone I've ever been with is dead!" she nearly shouts, freezing any retort he might have on his tongue, the ache in his heart shifting instantly from self-pity to tender sympathy as she continues, "Neal, Graham, even Walsh. I lost everyone. I – I can't lose you, too."

And now his heart is swelling, it's still beating frantically, but it's _swelling_ with just how much he bloody loves this woman. "Well, love, you don't have to worry about me. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's surviving."

Her eyes mist, her face open and vulnerable, and he can't stand to see her troubled. So he closes the distance and catches her lips with his. He realizes about two seconds into the kiss that he should probably slow down, cherish this declaration from her with gentle finesse. And he tries, he really does, but his heart sets the pace, the dull ache he's had all day morphing into a desperate need to devour.

His fingers find their way into her hair when she opens her mouth to him, passion sizzling between their joined lips. He shifts the angle and goes deeper, glorying in the way her hand snakes under his coat. It damn near makes him growl with appreciation because she seems just as desperate as he is to be rid of whatever frustrations are plaguing _her_ , and what better way to do that than taking it out on his lips.

He doesn't know how long it goes on but it never slows, their panting breaths mixing together in between the nips and sucks, their mouths plunging and retreating in perfect synchronization until he doesn't know who is actually in control anymore.

But it doesn't matter, because by the time they finally separate, the weight he'd been carrying all day is gone and Emma is in his arms, both of them nearly drooping in relief from their shared release of frustration.


End file.
